Black Heart

Chapter nine: A Clash of Arrogance

——— ——— ——— ——— ———

As the weight of Ludachels existence comes to the curious attention of a darker entity, deep into the sweltering heat of the demon realm, where the air hums with oppressive force, a moment of grim endurance unfolds within the shadows of a forbidding prison.

Black blood, thick as night, beads and drips from the stalwart form of an imprisoned demon.
Motionless, he withstands the relentless lashings of a demonic guard, his skin flayed until silvery bones gleam beneath the wounds, yet not a sound escapes his lips, the only sound was of air cracking like thunder and chains scraping against the ground.

"You may be beyond death, but a semblance of pain, a mere whimper or cry, wouldn't go amiss. It dulls the entertainment when your screams do not accompany my strokes," the guard taunts, ceasing his brutal tirade only to carelessly flick his whip to the side, sending droplets of dark blood across the stone walls.

The guard strode cautiously towards the shadowy figure chained in the cell, the flickering candle casting a dim light on the prisoner's back that dripped of flesh. With a firm grip on the prisoner's hair, the guard jerked his head back, only to be met with a gaze as dark as the room itself and a bored expression on the prisoner's pale face.

Annoyed, the guard disguised his displeasure with a joke. "Good, still awake. I thought you may have lost consciousness, your royal hi-"

Before he could finish, the echo of descending footsteps interrupted him. The guard turned back to the prisoner, a smirk forming on his face. "Looks like Daddy's here to end your little time-out just when things were getting interesting," he chuckled.

"Get him up," a commanding voice resonated as the footsteps drew closer.

With a disapproving click of his tongue directed at the man in formal attire, the guard released the prisoner from his restraints and pushed him up against the wall, only to be overpowered as the prisoner loomed and pushed back, pinning him with a menacing hold, claws pricing his skin.

Leaning in closer to his ear, the prisoner said in a chilling grated whisper that sent a shiver down the guard's spine. "No need to be sad, my friend. We share a certain fondness for pain. You like it, yes? You do, hahh don't you? Well, so do I, even more than you know."

Stunned, the guard slumped to the ground as the prince drew back, a wicked grin revealing his sharp canines. "Enough, Your Highness. The king summons you. Best not to test his patience further," the man outside the cell urged impatiently.

Turning away from the guard, the prince sauntered towards the man named Vincent, nonchalantly stretching as his injuries miraculously healed themselves as if he were never Marred in the first place. "Always ruining the fun, Vincent," he teased with a hint of mockery. Tilting his head innocently as he peered down at Vincent.

"Lead the way. Let's not keep Father waiting," he added, a sinister glint in his eyes as he followed his fathers servant.

In the shadowed corridors leading to the ominous throne room that loomed with a dark atmosphere by the thick stone structure. Pain, the first Prince of Solomon marched ahead of Vincent. Every eye in the court watched his blood-streaked figure with a mixture of awe and trepidation, the months of captivity leaving him clad only in his own dirt and dried blood. Despite his dishevelled appearance, Pain exuded an air of defiance as he ascended the podium that faced the throne, gazing unflinchingly at the king seated upon it.

"What brings about the honour of my presence here today?" Pain's voice rang out boldly, cutting through the tense silence that gripped the room.

Gasps and whispers swept through the demonic council above, while the king's hand visibly tightened on the armrest of his throne. A moment of charged silence passed before the king's laughter filled the chamber, a foreboding sound that seemed to reverberate off the stone walls.